


All You Couldn't Be

by enigmaticblue



Series: Dean Winchester, Agent of SHIELD [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Parental Bobby Singer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 08:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14160534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: Sometimes Bobby has to remind himself that he isn’t Dean’s father, and never will be.





	All You Couldn't Be

**Author's Note:**

> Fills the wild card square for trope_bingo: "chosen family"

**Now**

 

Bobby climbs out of his Chevelle and arches his back, hearing his spine crack. These days, he leaves the hunting to the younger crowd for the most part. Long drives cause him to stiffen up, and he has a lot of old injuries from his days as a Marine, and from hunting.

 

If he’s honest, he never thought he’d live this long, but he’s making the best of it.

 

He starts the gas pumping and shakes the stiffness out of his knees and hips, twisting to release the tension in his back as well. He’s just outside Toledo and thinks he’ll probably make it across the state line and into Pennsylvania before he has to stop for the night.

 

As a younger man, he probably would have driven 20 hours straight through, but he knows better now.

 

Bobby goes into the gas station and buys a cup of coffee and a sandwich, and then he gets back behind the wheel. He thinks about calling Dean, letting him know that he’s on his way. With what Sam told him, Dean probably doesn’t do well with surprises these days.

 

Of course, if he calls first, Dean is likely to tell Bobby not to bother coming, that he’s fine, and not to worry. Dean wouldn’t want to risk Bobby reacting poorly, or responding as Sam had, which is the whole reason Bobby’s going in person. In this case, Bobby figures the surprise might be better than Dean overthinking it.

 

And maybe Bobby should have made this drive twenty years ago, should have picked Dean up from that group home. Maybe he’d made the wrong call then; he doesn’t think he’s making the wrong call now.

 

Bobby thinks Dean might need to see him as much as he needs to see Dean.

 

**Then**

 

The ringing of the phone pulls Bobby out of his ancient tome on anti-possession wards, and he fumbles for the receiver without taking his eyes off the printed text. The voice on the other end of the line puts him on high alert, because it’s Dean’s voice, and he hasn’t heard from any of the Winchesters for months.

 

“Hey, Uncle Bobby,” Dean says.

 

“Dean, is everything all right?” Bobby asks immediately.

 

Dean hesitates. “Yeah, it’s fine, but I need you to get a message to my dad.”

 

“Where are you?” Bobby asks.

 

“I’m in upstate New York,” Dean replies. “But my dad?”

 

“I heard you the first time,” Bobby replies. “I haven’t heard from your dad in months, but I’ll do my best. What’s the message?”

 

He knows the answer to that question will probably answer the others he has.

 

“I have a hearing coming up a week from today,” Dean replies. “But they’re asking some pretty hard questions. They could take Sammy from Dad.”

 

Bobby knows hunters can run afoul of the law a lot of different ways, and the consequences range from a warning, to a stint in jail, to a very long prison sentence. “Where are you, Dean? Be specific.”

 

“In a group home in Hurleyville, New York,” Dean admits, his voice dropping. “It’s no big deal.”

 

“What did you do?” Bobby asks, because he’ll be the judge of what a big deal this is.

 

There’s a long, pregnant pause, and Bobby knows he’s not going to like the answer. “I stole some food.”

 

Bobby _doesn’t_ like the answer, but not because he’s upset with Dean. He knows exactly why Dean would steal food, and he feels a hot spike of anger. “How long did you get?” he asks, keeping his voice even with a great deal of effort.

 

“A couple of months,” Dean admits.

 

“And you’re okay?” Bobby presses.

 

And now Bobby can hear the real happiness in Dean’s voice as he says, “Yeah, I made the honor roll this semester, and I’m on the wrestling team. I have a girlfriend. Sonny—the guy who runs this place—is really great. You’d like him.”

 

“Good,” Bobby says. “I’m glad to hear it. If that changes, I’m your first call, you hear me?”

 

“I hear you, Bobby,” Dean replies. “But I’m really okay. You’ll pass the message on to my dad?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him,” Bobby promises, a little grimly. “What’s your phone number?”

 

Dean rattles off a number. “Thanks, Uncle Bobby.”

 

“You take care of yourself,” Bobby replies.

 

When he hangs up, he wrestles his temper under control. John Winchester has pissed him off more times than he can count, but this is the first time he’s been angry enough to murder the man. He’s encouraged John to leave the boys with him in the past when he has a long job, so that’s part of it.

 

But part of it is that Dean should never have been put into a position where he needed to steal food in the first place—and he shouldn’t have been left in a group home, not for something as minor as shoplifting.

 

Bobby does as Dean asks and calls every phone number he has for John without any luck. All of the numbers have been disconnected, and Bobby is stymied. He suspects that John won’t show up to Dean’s hearing, but he should at least have the option.

 

As a last resort, he calls Ellen. “Roadhouse,” she says briefly.

 

“Ellen, Bobby,” he says. “How’s business?”

 

“Keeps me hopping,” she replies. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I got a call from Dean Winchester, looking to pass a message along to his dad.”

 

“There a reason he can’t do that himself?” Ellen asks.

 

Bobby sighs. “Dean got into a little trouble, and I’m pretty sure John’s gone to ground with Sam. Dean needs to get a message to him, and all the numbers I have for him have been disconnected.”

 

“I’ll ask around,” Ellen replies. “I haven’t seen John in ages, but someone here might know how to get in touch with him.”

 

“Time is of the essence,” Bobby replies. “Thanks, Ellen.”

 

She snorts. “John Winchester has always been trouble. I’ll see what I can do, Bobby.”

 

“It’s appreciated.”

 

Bobby tries to distract himself with work as best he can—with repairing his Chevelle, with his research project on Devil’s Traps, with cooking up a pot of chili to freeze for later. He’s just sitting down to eat when his phone rings.

 

He glances at his makeshift switchboard before he picks up with a gruff, “Singer’s Salvage.”

 

“Bobby,” John growls. “I hear you’re trying to reach me.”

 

John’s voice ignites pure rage in him, and Bobby has to remind himself that John still has Sam, and if John and Dean manage to reconnect, Bobby wants to be in a position to look after the boys. John’s been known to cut ties with those who disagree with him, and Bobby feels like he has a duty to John’s sons.

 

“Dean called me,” Bobby replies. “He wanted me to pass along a message.”

 

He considers just telling John about the hearing, and not telling him that the authorities are asking questions that place his custody of Sam at issue. Maybe the courts _should_ be asking questions, the sorts of questions that no one else in those boys’ lives have asked before.

 

But Dean has asked this of him, and Bobby isn’t willing to damage Dean’s trust in him.

 

“What’s the message?” John asks.

 

“Dean said he has a hearing coming up, and they’re asking some pretty tough questions about you and Sam,” Bobby says after a pause. “A week from today.”

 

John doesn’t reply right away. “How did he sound?”

 

Bobby bites back the first response that comes to mind. “Good. He sounded good.”

 

There’s another pause. “I checked on him, in case you were wondering. Did a background search on the guy that runs the group home. I knew Dean would be in good hands.”

 

To Bobby, that isn’t enough, but he’s cognizant of the fact that it’s not his place to criticize John’s parenting. “I got his phone number if you want it,” he offers, already knowing what choice John is going to make regarding his kids.

 

“No, better not,” John replies. “And I know where he is.”

 

There’s a dial tone, and Bobby gives in to the urge to swear as he hangs up, using every name he learned in the Marine Corps for John Winchester.

 

And then he reminds himself that at least Dean is safe.

 

**Now**

 

Bobby rolls into New York City midafternoon, having woken up early that morning. He has an address for Dean, although he has no idea whether it’s out of date or not. He could probably ask Sam, but he doesn’t want Sam to know that he’s in New York.

 

He’s firmly of the opinion that what Sam doesn’t know won’t hurt him, not in this situation.

 

Parking in New York is as much of a bitch as Bobby remembers, so he finds a garage as close to Dean’s address as he can manage and hoofs it from there with his duffel bag slung over a shoulder.

 

After so many hours on the road, it feels good to stretch his legs, and Bobby finds Dean’s apartment without too much trouble. He buzzes the intercom but doesn’t get a response, and Bobby’s a bit at a loss from there.

 

The other place Dean’s most likely to be is Stark Tower, which will be a lot harder to get into, and he’s not looking forward to it.

 

Bobby sighs and does the only thing he can think of doing. He calls Dean.

 

“Bobby?” Dean says when he picks up on the second ring. “Everything okay?”

 

“Everything is fine,” Bobby replies. “The thing is, I’m in town, and I’m at your place, and you’re not answering. Can I meet you somewhere?”

 

“Bobby—”

 

“I know, and that’s why I want to see you,” Bobby says. “I just need to know you’re okay, that’s all. I’ve been keeping up on the news.”

 

Dean hesitates. “Come by the Tower. It’s reinforced, so if I lose control, I won’t destroy the apartment building.”

 

“You worried about that?” Bobby asks.

 

“I freaked out on Sammy,” Dean points out.

 

Bobby snorts. “Your brother is an idiot. I like the kid, but he’s an idiot.”

 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, yeah, he is. Okay, come on by. You need directions?”

 

“Nah, I got it,” Bobby replies. “See you soon.”

 

He’s here now and impatient to see Dean, so he gets a taxi in spite of the cost of getting to Manhattan. Bobby’s seen footage and photos of the Tower on the news, and he tilts his head back, seeing the “A” on the top. From what he’s heard, it used to say “Stark” but most of the letters were destroyed during the alien invasion.

 

Bobby strides into the lobby and sees a nondescript guy in jeans and a hoodie checking his phone. He looks vaguely familiar, and he intercepts Bobby on his way to the main desk.

 

“Mr. Singer?”

 

Bobby glares at him. “It’s Bobby.”

 

“Clint Barton,” the man says, holding out a hand. “Dean asked me to bring you up when you got here.”

 

Bobby shakes his hand. “Hawkeye, right?”

 

Barton grins and shrugs. “I’m the one least likely to be recognized.”

 

“Dean’s told me about you,” Bobby replies. “He always liked you.”

 

Barton laughs. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Come on. I’ll take you to him.”

 

Bobby follows him into the elevator and listens as Barton identifies himself. “I’ve got Bobby Singer with me, Jarvis.”

 

“Welcome, Mr. Singer,” the disembodied, British voice says.

 

“It’s just Bobby,” he mutters.

 

“As you wish, Mr. Singer.”

 

“Yeah, that never works,” Barton mutters. “Just FYI.”  
  


The elevator opens to a sunny Penthouse with so much space that Bobby isn’t sure where to look first. His guard is up, though, and he scans the room for Dean, spotting him after a few seconds.

 

Dean looks good, maybe a little pale, and certainly wary, but he’s in one piece, and his expression is cautiously optimistic when his eyes light on Bobby.  “Hey, Bobby.”

 

Bobby crosses the room to get a better look at him, wrapping a hand around the back of Dean’s neck. “You okay?”

 

Dean’s smile falters. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Bobby shakes him slightly. “You know better than that, boy. I been watching the news, and I know. Either it kills you or it changes you, and you didn’t die. Some folks might think that’s lucky, but I know about change.”

 

His face falls, and he blinks rapidly, glancing away. “Yeah. I’m—dealing. What did Sam tell you?”

 

“Enough to know he was an idjit.”

 

Dean chuckles, but the sound has a wet quality. “Well, Sam has his reasons.”

 

“Dean.”

 

He finally meets Bobby’s eyes. “I’m okay. I’ve got good people around me.” He clears his throat. “Do you, uh, do you want to stay for dinner? Pretty sure there’s room for one more.”

 

“There’s always room for one more.”

 

Dean takes a step away from Bobby, but he rests a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. Bobby recognizes the man as Tony Stark from the news. “Tony, this is my Uncle Bobby. Bobby, Tony Stark.”

 

Stark’s dark, sharp gaze is assessing, and Bobby shifts uncomfortably. He holds a hand out. “Any friend of Dean’s is a friend of ours,” Stark says. “And you know Bruce always makes enough for an army. With Thor off world, there should be more than enough.”

 

“I appreciate the hospitality,” Bobby replies.

 

Stark nods. “Well, like I said. Any friend of Dean’s. I should go let Bruce know we’ve got company.”

 

“Yeah, I need to go do that thing,” Barton announces, and he and Stark both get on the elevator, leaving them alone.

 

“Well, that wasn’t obvious _at all_ ,” Dean says. “Come on, let’s sit. How are you, Bobby?”

 

“Me?” Bobby asks. “I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle really. That’s not why I’m here.”

 

Dean sighs. “Put your bag down. If you want to stay with me, I’ve got the room.”

 

Bobby allows the subject change—for now—and puts his bag on the floor. “You got something to drink?”

 

“Beer?” Dean offers. “Tony tends to stock my favorites.”

 

“That will work,” Bobby replies. “You want to talk to me?”

 

Dean sighs. “I’m fine.”

 

“Fine don’t mean good.”

 

Dean pops the caps off a couple of long necks and hands one to Bobby. “I’m getting there. How’s Sam?”

 

Bobby doesn’t like being the go-between, but he’s used to it by now. “Fine, last time I talked to him. You’re avoiding the subject.”

 

“Not sure what I’ve done to earn a visit from you,” Dean says, deflecting again.

 

Bobby gives him a look. “Dean.”

 

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. I kind of lost it on Sam.”

 

“Sam doesn’t have a fucking clue what you’ve been through,” Bobby replies. “You want to tell me?”

 

Dean takes a long drink of his beer. “I had a mission, and I—figured out that I probably could survive exposure to the alien material. Someone threw a splinter bomb into our meeting room, and I knew I’d probably survive. I didn’t think anybody else would.”

 

Bobby is so fucking proud of Dean, but at the same time he knows just how big of a risk Dean took. “You saved them.”

 

“Yeah, well, I had a chance, right?” Dean asks. “I had to try. It was either me or it was all of us.”

 

“I’m proud of you.” Bobby meets Dean’s eyes, trying to convey his sincerity. “You’re doing good, Dean.”

 

Dean looks away, and Bobby can see his eyes welling up. “Thanks.”

 

Bobby wants to tell him that his dad would be proud, but he honestly has no idea how John would have responded to his son having special powers. He thinks it probably wouldn’t be the best reaction.

 

“How are you doing otherwise?” Bobby asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “I can’t see Sam yet. I think he’d probably trigger me. I’m working on my control, but…”

 

“Is it okay, my being here?” Bobby asks. “My feelings won’t be hurt if the answer is no.”

 

“No, it’s great,” Dean says immediately. “Having you here—I didn’t know how much I wanted it before you showed up. I—I want to introduce you everybody, but they’re a little protective. If you get a weird feeling, that’s probably why.”

 

Bobby laughs. “Dean, I’m just glad you have people who are protective of you.”

 

“It’s really good to see you, Bobby,” Dean says. “Really good.”

 

And Bobby really is so proud he could burst.

 

**Then**

 

Bobby calls the number Dean gave him on Dean’s 18thbirthday. He’s not sure if John actually showed up, or if he will at all. He’s kept in touch with Dean over the last year or so with periodic phone calls, and he knows Dean is doing well.

 

Making the honor roll every semester, lettering in wrestling, with a girlfriend. Dean is hitting every teenage milestone that Bobby wanted for him.

 

Someone picks up the phone on the second ring, answering, “Sonny.”

 

“It’s Bobby Singer,” he says. He’s spoken with Sonny a few times when he’s called, and he likes the man. His background check came back clean, and his group home turns out kids who go to college or technical schools at a far higher rate than usual.

 

And it’s clear that Sonny cares for Dean and his welfare, and that means a lot to Bobby.

 

“Bobby,” Sonny replies warmly. “Good to hear from you. Dean’s out right now.”

 

That’s not exactly what Bobby wants to hear, but he’s not disappointed. “For his birthday I hope?”

 

“His girlfriend and teammates took him out,” Sonny confirms. “I haven’t seen hide or hair of his dad.”

 

Bobby hasn’t either, but he doesn’t admit as much. “Tell Dean I called, and he can call me back when he has a minute.”

 

“Sure thing,” Sonny says. “Dean will be glad to know you called.”

 

“How’s he doing?” Bobby asks.

 

“He’s great,” Sonny replies. “He’s a huge help with the other kids, and is a real leader. He even made National Honor Society.”

 

Bobby smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

 

“You know Dean can stay here as long as he wants,” Sonny says hesitantly. “I get that you’ll probably invite him to stay with you…”

 

“No,” Bobby says when Sonny trails off. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have him here, and I’d send you money for a bus ticket or come out and get him myself, but Dean is doing well where he is. I won’t mess that up for him.”

 

Sonny breathes a sigh of what could only be termed relief. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love for his dad to show up, but from what Dean’s said, it might be better if he didn’t.”

 

Bobby has had similar thoughts. If he invites Dean to stay with him, Dean will probably say yes, and he’ll get sucked right back into the hunting life. If Dean wants that life, if he chooses it, that’s one thing, but he doesn’t have to be dragged back into it.

 

“Has Dean said anything about what he wants to do after high school?” Bobby asks. He could ask Dean himself, but he doesn’t want to inadvertently influence him.

 

He wants Dean to have choices.

 

“He’s been talking to recruiters,” Sonny replies. “He’s leaning Army right now.”

 

“He’d do well,” Bobby admits. He can see Dean succeeding in that kind of structured environment.

 

“He has the potential,” Sonny agrees. “The recruiter loves him, and he’s thinking special operations. He wants to help people.”

 

Bobby smiles. “He’s always wanted that. He’s got a good heart.”

 

“That he does,” Sonny replies. “I’ll tell Dean you called.”

 

“Thanks,” Bobby replies. “Do you know if he got my card?”

 

“It came in today’s mail, and he hasn’t had a chance to open it yet,” Sonny replies. “I’ll have him give you a call when he does.”

 

“I appreciate it,” Bobby replies. “Good to talk to you, Sonny.”

 

“You too. If you’re in town, feel free to stop by.”

 

“Sure thing,” Bobby replies, although he knows he won’t. He’s not going to risk the temptation.

 

But it’s good to know that Dean is doing well. That’s all Bobby really wants.

 

**Now**

 

Bobby doesn’t ask a lot of questions after that, instead focusing on just catching up. They’re talking about the salvage yard and Bobby’s current renovation project when a rumpled man in khakis and a button down shirt enters.

 

“Hey, Doc,” Dean says. “Tony told you?”

 

“He did,” Bruce replies, coming over to greet Bobby. “Bruce Banner.”

 

“Bobby Singer,” he replies, shaking his hand, the pieces falling into place. This was the guy Dean took a bullet for, and even though Bobby knows he’s the Hulk, he can understand why Dean would have acted as he did. “I hope I’m not putting you out.”

 

Bruce smiles. “It’s no trouble.”

 

“I can help,” Dean offers.

 

“So can I,” Bobby says.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “That’s not necessary. You should spend some time with your uncle, Dean.”

 

“It’s okay,” Dean says. “Bobby was the first one to teach me how to cook. And we’re imposing on you.”

 

“It’s no imposition, but if you want to help, I’ll take it,” Bruce replies. “How long are you in town for, Mr. Singer?”

 

Bobby shrugs. “I suppose that will depend. I’m flexible.”

 

“Well, you’re welcome for dinner,” Bruce says. “And any other meal Dean ends up eating here. I’m making fajitas. Dean, you can slice the onions.”

 

“Oh, I see how this goes,” Dean replies, but he has a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’ve got the onions.”

 

Bobby gets the peppers, and he starts slicing.

 

“Are you getting lonely without Natasha here?” Bruce asks, a teasing note in his voice.

 

“How am I going to get lonely when I’m at the Tower all the time?” Dean replies.

 

“Does Natasha know how you think about the rest of the team?” Bruce asks with a smirk.

 

“Sure,” Dean says easily. “She figures you’ll keep me out of trouble.”

 

Bobby watches them give each other a hard time, and he sees how relaxed Dean is. And clearly this relationship is a little more serious than Bobby realized.

 

“That just proves you’re a cat person,” Bruce replies.

 

Dean laughs. “Come on! So are you.”

 

Bobby doesn’t entirely get the reference, but he finishes up the peppers and tosses them on the baking sheet Bruce indicates.

 

“You aren’t wrong,” Bruce admits. “Although I like dogs, too. I had a dog in Rio, you know.”

 

“I’m surprised Tony hasn’t gone looking for it,” Dean replies.

 

“He has,” Bruce replies. “But that was years ago, and we’re talking about a stray. Pretty sure he’s dead by now.”

 

He says this in a fatalistic way that Bobby has heard from hunters with a run of bad luck in the past. Those are the words of a man who has seen a lot of bad shit, and expects more bad shit to come.

 

Dean grimaces. “Sorry, Doc.”

 

“We all leave things behind,” Bruce replies and glances at Bobby with a look that doesn’t need interpreting.

 

Whatever he or Dean might have said is cut off by the appearance of a man who doesn’t need introductions. In person, Steve Rogers is imposing, and Dean’s face falls as soon as he sees him. “Oh, man. Shit. Steve, I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replies immediately. “Clint told me where you were, and you should spend time with your uncle.”

 

He’s wearing jogging pants and a tight t-shirt that stretches out across broad shoulders, and Bobby has to admit he’s a little intimidated.

 

“Sorry,” Dean repeats. “Steve, my uncle, Bobby Singer. Bobby, this is Steve Rogers.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Steve says warmly, holding out a hand.

 

Bobby shakes his hand. “The pleasure is mine.” He doesn’t stutter, but it’s a near thing. Steve has an imposing presence without meaning to _be_ imposing. “Sorry to take Dean away from his duties. I sprung this visit on him.”

 

“No, it’s great that you’re here,” Steve replies, and his expression briefly darkens. “It’s good to meet Dean’s family. He’s a good man.”

 

Dean seems to be blushing, and Bobby smiles. “I know it.”

 

“So, Dean, I understand if the answer is no, but were you still planning on heading upstate tomorrow?” Steve asks.

 

Dean winces. “Ah, yeah. I don’t know.” He casts an anxious look Bobby’s way. “Tony’s renovating a training facility, and he wanted me to test it out. I was heading up there tomorrow.”

 

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Bobby asks, easily reading between the lines. Dean wants to go—maybe needs to go—but he’s also not ready for Bobby to leave, and that part feels good.

 

“You wouldn’t mind?” Dean asks hopefully.

 

Bobby shrugs. “I have a little time, and I surprised you. I don’t mind.”

 

“If you’re sure,” Dean hazards.

 

“Sure,” Bobby replies. “I don’t mind a bit.”

 

Bobby’s looking forward to seeing where Dean works, and how he works. He’s liked what he’s seen so far.

 

**Then**

 

Bobby has the date circled on his calendar, the information passed along by Sonny. Bobby considered going to New York to see Dean graduate; he wanted to, but he doesn’t trust himself.

 

The phone rings, and Bobby checks the time. Dean would be getting ready to head out to the ceremony, and Bobby picks up. “Singer’s Salvage Yard.”

 

“Uncle Bobby,” Dean says, and Bobby hears the relief in his voice.

 

Dean wants to know where his dad is, and where Sam is, of course, and Bobby can’t tell him that. John hasn’t left Bobby any way to get in touch with him on purpose, and so he has nothing to tell Dean.

 

Nothing other than what he’s already said, anyway.

 

“What’s your hurry, boy?” Bobby asks, knowing exactly what today is, and what the hurry is. Dean stammers out his reasons, that he’s graduating, that he wants to meet up with his dad and Sam.

 

Bobby knows he needs to disabuse him of that notion quickly. “John knows where you are. He’s on some wild goose chase, and he hasn’t come back in months. I don’t know where he is, or even if he’ll come back, given what passed between us. If you’ve got a chance to live your own life, boy, you take it, you hear me?”

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean says, and Bobby can hear the heaviness in his voice.

  

“Dean,” Bobby says. “Congratulations on graduating. You doing okay?” He already knows the answer, but Dean doesn’t know that. Bobby has been in touch, but maybe not as much as he should have been.

 

“Honor roll,” he says and there’s a hint of pride in his voice. “I lettered in wrestling, too.”

 

“I’m proud of you,” Bobby replies, fighting back his emotions. “You stay in touch, you hear?”

 

“I hear,” Dean replies.

 

“You know what you’re going to do?” Bobby asks.

 

Dean swallows. “Thought I might enlist.”

 

The words Bobby wants to say are stuck in his throat. He wants to be there for Dean’s graduation. He wants to offer a bus ticket, to tell Dean to stay with him until his dad resurfaces.

 

But the Army offers Dean another option. He could get money for college, maybe get a degree, have a family. Dean could have a life that isn’t hunting. He could have something of his own, rather than trailing after John and his vendetta, the responsibility for his younger brother stymying growth.

 

Dean could have his own life, and Bobby can’t let his personal feelings get in the way. “You do that,” he says, instead of issuing an invitation. He has to put Dean’s needs first.

 

He can give Dean that much at least.

 

He can tell Dean that he’ll pass along the message, and tell John what Dean plans to do, but that’s about it. Dean chokes out a thank you, and then hangs up, but Bobby isn’t offended.

 

Bobby just wishes he could do more, that he could give Dean more than his silence.

 

**Now**

 

Dinner with the Avengers feels familial and warm. It’s not all of them, but it’s more than enough for Bobby, who has been following their exploits with even more attention after watching Dean get shot on national television.

 

Rogers asks Bobby what he does, and a little about his past, and Bobby doesn’t mention hunting in case Dean hasn’t come clean. “I run a salvage yard and fix cars,” he says.

 

Rogers gives him a look. “You served?”

 

“How’d you know?” Bobby asks.

 

Rogers’ smile is a little rueful. “Dean mentioned you and his dad were in the service.”

 

“Marines,” Bobby admits. “Did a hitch in Vietnam.”

 

Rogers nods. “I’ve read something about that war.”

 

He doesn’t ask any other questions, for which Bobby is grateful. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

 

Stark wants to know about cars. “Have you been working on any cars recently?”

 

“Always,” Bobby replies. “But nothing interesting. I get a lot of four door sedans where I live.”

 

“You should come down to the shop after dinner,” Stark says. “That’s how I seduced Dean—platonically of course.”

 

Dean grins. “He’s right about that. The man has some impressive cars, Bobby.”

 

“Then I’d be delighted,” Bobby replies. “Assuming you keep the drinks coming. Don’t think I’m sober enough to show off how much I don’t know to America’s favorite engineer.”

 

A smirk tilts Stark’s lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my man. Dean, he’s now my favorite relative of yours.”

 

“Since I only have two, that’s not saying much,” Dean replies, but he’s smiling. “But I’m pretty sure Bobby is everybody’s favorite.”

 

Bobby keeps his own counsel, because he knows what John thought of him at the end, and how irritated Sam probably is with him now.

 

“It’s good to know you have someone looking out for you besides us,” Rogers comments. “Bruce, can I help you clean up?”

 

“No, you can help Tony clean up,” Bruce replies. “Since Dean, Bobby, and I cooked. Clint can help.”

 

“Touché, Doc,” Barton says. “And well played.”

 

Bruce smirks. “I hate doing dishes.”

 

“And now the truth comes out,” Stark mutters.

 

“I enjoy cooking,” Bruce says. “Plus, I’m good at it, and any good relationship involves a reasonable division of labor.”

 

“Feel free to get started without me,” Stark says. “Dean knows where everything is.”

 

“Tony doesn’t keep all his cars here, but he has a few,” Dean says as they ride down on the elevator. “He keeps them in a separate underground garage from the main parking area.”

 

The garage still seems fairly large, and is certainly pristine. Bobby is pretty sure he could eat off the floor, but that’s not what interests him. “So, this is what suckered you in, huh?”

 

“Yeah, the Saleen is my favorite,” Dean replies. “Tony let me take it out for a spin one time. The Cobra is great, too, though. You want a drink?”

 

“Sure,” Bobby replies, beginning to wander around the room, looking at the cars, most of them nicer than any he’s seen. He compares this place to the salvage yard or the garages he’s worked in, and silently admits that this is a completely different world. He’s not completely comfortable, but Dean clearly is as he pulls out a decanter full of amber liquid and a couple of glasses.

 

“Do you want take a look under the hood?” Dean asks.

 

Bobby is a little afraid to touch anything, but thinks that might make him look rude. “I’d love to.”

 

Dean starts talking about the Saleen and the time Tony let him drive it, his eyes bright with excitement. It reminds Bobby of when Dean was a kid, the few times when he relaxed enough just to _be_ a kid.

 

“What did I miss?” Stark asks as he enters.

 

“I was just telling Bobby about the Saleen,” Dean replies, pouring another drink without being asked.

 

“Are you flying or driving tomorrow?” Stark asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind driving. Bobby probably has his car, so—”

 

“Take the Saleen,” Stark urges. “Or take one of the other cars. Your pick.”

 

Dean hesitates. “If you’re sure, but I’d rather take the Acura. I’ll feel slightly less awful if someone scratches the paint or if I blow it up.”

 

“You’re not going to blow it up,” Stark replies. “But whatever makes you happy.”

 

“But you don’t _know_ that,” Dean points out. “I _could_ blow it up.”

 

Stark raises his eyebrows. “And if you took Mr. Singer’s vehicle, and blew _that_ one up, he’d have to replace it.”

 

“Well, I would,” Dean counters. “But you’ve made your point.”

 

“Relax, Dean,” Stark says. “Your control is no worse than Bruce’s, and the last time he actually transformed when it wasn’t on purpose was when you got shot.”

 

Dean shrugs, and Bobby can tell that he’s still worried about his control. “Your brother would drive a saint to exploding,” Stark adds. “I’m pretty sure he’s on Steve’s shit list, and you know Steve.”

 

“Yeah, I do, but Steve is biased,” Dean replies. “He has to take my side.”

 

“He never takes _my_ side,” Stark replies.

 

“Your brother’s had his head firmly up his own ass for years now,” Bobby says. “If you lost patience with him, it was deserved.”

 

Dean laughs. “He was being a little trying.”

 

“There you have it,” Stark says and pours another drink. “You’re doing good, Winchester.”

 

Dean shrugs, but Bobby hopes he’s taken it to heart.

 

**Then**

 

When the familiar Impala pulls up in front of Bobby’s house, it takes every bit of his self-control not to meet John Winchester with a loaded shotgun. In the end, it’s only the sight of the slumped figure of Sam in the passenger seat that prevents him from running John off.

 

Bobby hasn’t seen the Winchesters in years. Dean hasn’t come around, and Bobby thinks that’s probably on him. The fact that he hasn’t seen John or Sam would be on John.

 

Sam’s grown some since the last time Bobby saw him, and he realizes that he’s nearly 17 now, lanky and just beginning to grow into his size.

 

John at least appears sheepish when he approaches, and Bobby’s going to wait to say his piece until after Sam’s inside. “Head on in,” Bobby says. “There’s a room upstairs waiting for you.”

 

Sam gives them both a suspicious, sullen glare and heads inside. Bobby wonders if he’d be more or less willing to stay if he knew John had essentially abandoned Dean. “Does he know?” Bobby asks.

 

“He knows Dean got into some trouble,” John says. “He doesn’t know what kind, or what happened afterward. He’d blame himself, you know that.”

 

“He ought to blame you,” Bobby growls. “You were the one who left Dean there.”

 

“What about you?” John asks. “You could have gone to him, you could have invited him into your home. Why didn’t you?”

 

“Because I’m not his fucking father, as you’ve made abundantly clear every time you left your boys with me,” Bobby says, his frustration and anger boiling over. “I love your boys, and I’ll look after Sam for as long as you leave him with me, but don’t try to lay this at my door.”

 

John looks away, suddenly deflating, unable to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Do you know where he is?”

 

“Training,” Bobby replies. “He made it through Ranger school with flying colors. I haven’t seen him yet, but he might stop back through.”

 

John grimaces. “He’s better off. It’s not like we’re at war, and Dean’s like his mother. He has a soft heart.”

 

“You say that like it’s not the best part of him,” Bobby snaps.

 

“There’s no place in hunting for a soft heart,” John says, “and you know it.”

 

“What I know is that Sam deserves to know the truth. He deserves to know that his brother didn’t abandon him. Just like Dean deserves more than you leaving him without a word,” Bobby replies.

 

“It was for their own good, and you know it,” John replies. “Dean was doing good. He was happy, he was safe, and it would have put Sam at risk. And if you say jack shit about that to Sam, I’ll take him and disappear, and maybe Dean won’t see his brother again.”

 

Bobby remains the only connection between Dean and his family, and he can’t risk it, and he’s not sure he can trust Sam to keep his mouth shut. Sam’s a good kid, but he’s angry, and he could say something in anger they’ll all regret.

 

For Dean’s sake, for Sam’s sake, Bobby will keep his mouth shut, but he hates John a little bit right then for holding his concern for the boys hostage.

 

“How long you going to be gone for?” Bobby asks.

 

“A while,” John replies. “I have a line on the thing that killed their mom, and Sam deserves a chance to finish high school.”

 

Bobby shakes his head. “You tell Sam that?”

 

“He’s pissed enough at me already.”

 

“He has reason,” Bobby mutters. “Go on, get out of here. You have a job, I get it.”

 

John hesitates. “Thanks, Bobby.”

 

Bobby snorts. “You’re lucky I love those boys like my own.”

 

“I know I am.” And then John gets back in his car and takes off, and Bobby is left with an angry teenager. Given that he has some responsibility for why Sam is pissed off, Bobby figures he’ll do the best he can to clean up the mess he helped make.

 

**Now**

 

Somehow, Bobby finds himself in a convertible that probably costs more than he’s made in the last five years combined, heading to upstate New York. Dean’s even nice enough to let him drive.

 

“You sure Stark won’t mind?” Bobby asks.

 

“He said I could,” Dean replies. “Or you could. I haven’t driven for a while, and I’m not sure I trust myself behind a wheel if something happened.”

 

Bobby nods and enjoys the feeling of the powerful car under him. The top is up since they’re going to be on the highway, and he tries to think of an oblique way of asking his question. “You don’t have a car?”

 

“No.” Dean is quiet for a minute, his fingers drumming out a rhythm on his leg. “I had a truck when I was in the Rangers. I liked it, and a lot of people needed help moving a lot of times, so it came in handy. When—when I joined SHIELD, I got rid of a lot of stuff, and I was moving around too much to keep a vehicle.”

 

“You want to tell me why you left the Rangers?” Bobby asks, because he never has before, and now seems like a good time.

 

Dean sighs, and that sound seems to come up from his toes. “They all died. Every guy on my team died, and I nearly did, too. Coulson—the guy who recruited me—and Natasha showed up in the nick of time and got me out of there, and while I was recovering, Coulson told me I could do something else. I cashed out after that and joined SHIELD, but mostly stayed a solo operator until the Avengers.”

 

Bobby doesn’t remember the names of all the guys in his unit in Vietnam. They’d taken plenty of casualties, and there had been a constant rotation. But there are guys he does remember, guys he’ll never forget, not as long as he lives.

 

Then again, he was only there a year. “How long were you together?”

 

“Scooter and me? Since Ranger school. Cam and Miller joined us later, and we were in Afghanistan together.” Dean rubs his eyes. “I was Scooter’s best man. I think Amy’s remarried now. I guess we should be glad we never had kids.”

 

Bobby has never asked him these questions before, but he’s not sure why. Maybe he just got into the habit of not asking a long time ago. But what’s obvious is that Dean wanted a family, and he kept trying to build one.

 

He doesn’t say that, though. Dean doesn’t need to hear that.

 

“They were family,” Bobby says, stopping short of what he could say.

 

Dean shakes his head. “They were my brothers, and losing them gutted me.”

 

Bobby grimaces. “I probably could have done more, Dean. I could have asked you to come stay with me until your dad showed up.”

 

“I could have asked,” Dean counters. “I don’t know, Bobby. That was a long time ago, and I can’t tell you what I was thinking at the time, but I didn’t ask, and I knew I could have.”

 

“Did you?” Bobby asks.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean replies. “I didn’t for a lot of reasons. I was pissed at Dad; I wanted a clean break; I wasn’t ready to go back to hunting; I don’t know. What happened wasn’t your fault. My dad’s decisions weren’t yours.”

 

“But they were mine,” Bobby counters.

 

Dean just shakes his head. “You looked after Sam, and whether he appreciated that or not, I did. I felt better about staying in, knowing that.”

 

“You didn’t have a choice,” Bobby counters.

 

“I did, though,” Dean says quietly, thoughtfully. “I could have asked to stay with you, and I know you would have said yes. I could have started hunting instead of enlisting. I could have gone AWOL. I could have gotten out after my initial hitch. Hell, I could have gotten out after SHIELD fell.”

 

Bobby is quiet, waiting for Dean to follow up on that.

 

“I’ve learned that we all have choices, even when we think we don’t,” Dean says quietly. “We just have to figure out the choice that will give us the consequences we can best live with.”

 

Bobby nods. “That’s more than your daddy ever figured out.”

 

“I think he did,” Dean says. “The problem was that the rest of us had to live with his choices, too.”

 

Bobby can’t argue with that conclusion, and he lets the silence hang. Soon enough, they’re pulling up in front of a modern building with construction equipment ranged around it. It’s clear there’s a renovation going on, and Dean says, “They’re reinforcing it for those of us who might need it, plus expanding it. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

 

Dean’s apartment in NYC is homey and well lived in. The Tower had been somewhat sterile. The compound feels even more like an office building to Bobby.

 

“I think it’s going to get better as we stay here longer,” Dean offers. “It won’t always be so sterile.”

 

“If you like it, that’s all that matters,” Bobby says neutrally.

 

“No, it sucks, but we’re not all here yet, and it’s safer,” Dean replies. “There are some nice people who live in my building, not including Clint.”

 

Bobby laughs, but then Barton jogs towards them. “Dean, we’ve been waiting for you. Drop your bags, and someone will get them to your room.”

 

Dean laughs. “Is Cap raring to go?”

 

“You could say that,” Barton replies. “Plus, you missed training yesterday, and we’re specifically setting it up so you can test it out. We can’t do that without you here.” He turns to Bobby. “There’s an observation area above if you want to watch.”

 

Bobby looks at Dean, who shrugs a little uncomfortably. “You can if you want, Bobby. I’ll probably be blowing shit up with my brain, so if that concerns you—”

 

“I’ll watch,” Bobby says, because he probably isn’t going to get a lot of opportunities to see Dean in action, and he’s curious.

 

“Up those stairs and down the hall,” Barton says, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You can’t miss it. Come on.”

 

He leads Dean away, and Bobby wanders the direction he’d pointed to, finally finding himself in a bare room without much in the way of creature comforts. There’s a glass pane on one side, and Bobby looks out to see a huge, empty space.

 

He’s up there long enough that he’s beginning to think he’s in the wrong place, when Barton, Rogers, and Dean enter the room. They’re all wearing workout gear, but nicer stuff than what Bobby’s seen, and it looks fairly uniform. Rogers has his shield slung across his back, and Barton has his bow and quiver, and Dean—

 

Dean’s hands are empty.

 

“Quick warm up,” Rogers calls, and then the room isn’t empty any longer. There are holographic buildings all around them, and they’re in the middle of a warzone. Projectiles start whizzing around the room, and Bobby watches as they move back to back, and then break apart again.

 

It’s a unique opportunity to see a couple of the Avengers in action, too, but Bobby only has eyes for Dean, who moves easily, gracefully, who throws out a hand to blow up three projectiles before they can hit Rogers’ exposed back.

 

Dean has a grin on his face a mile wide, and Bobby can see the pure joy there.

 

He realizes he’s not alone, and he turns to see a woman standing next to him. He recognizes her immediately as Natasha Romanoff. She’s just as beautiful in the flesh as she is in the pictures, and he realizes that this is Dean’s Natasha.

 

She could also kill him in about a hundred creative ways. Bobby goes back to watching Dean.

 

“Does it bother you?” she asks.

 

“Does what bother me?” Bobby sees Dean roll to avoid a projectile, duck to let Rogers throw his shield, throw himself out of the way so Barton could shoot off another arrow. He has a grin on his face the entire time.

 

“What he can do.”

 

Bobby turns to look at her fully. “Does it keep him safer? Does it help him in the field?”

 

“It will,” Natasha replies. “But I won’t pretend that it’s not also a liability if he loses control.”

 

Bobby nods. “Then yes, it bothers me, but I’ve been worried about that boy since his dad first brought them around. I never knew his mom, but John always said he was a lot like her, had her heart. If he hurts someone, it will gut him. But no, other than that, it doesn’t bother me.”

 

She looks at him, measuring him, and Bobby isn’t sure whether she finds him wanting or not.

 

And then a smile touches her lips. “Good answer. Dean is dealing with things fairly well, but I know there are things that weigh on him.”

 

Bobby hesitates. “I know Dean hasn’t spoken to Sam, and that’s probably for the best, but I know Sam. He’ll keep calling unless someone puts a stop to it.”

 

Her smile grows, turns into something less warm and more dangerous. “I think I can handle that.”

 

Bobby almost feels sorry for Sam. _Almost_. Watching how much destructive power Dean has at his disposal, he needs to not be triggered.

 

She nods a bit, and Bobby thinks he might have passed her test.

 

“You’ll excuse me while I join them,” she says, holding out a hand for Bobby to shake. “Call me Natasha.”

 

“Bobby,” he replies. “And it’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

 

“I can say the same,” she says. “Thank you for coming.”

 

Bobby nods. “I’m glad I could be here.”

 

He watches as she joins Dean and the others in the room, and then the scenario changes. Now, it’s clear they’ve split off into teams, with Dean and Natasha on one side and Barton and Rogers on the other.

 

Bobby watches them and he’s in awe. These are people at the top of their game, the best of the best, and Dean is one of them.

 

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

 

Bobby turns to see Bruce enter. He has a mug of tea in hand and hands Bobby a Budweiser in a bottle. “Dean said you liked beer.”

 

“I don’t have very refined tastes,” Bobby admits.

 

“Most of us don’t,” Bruce replies with a wry grin. “Not even Tony, although he’ll never admit to it.”

 

Bobby tips the bottle back. “He’s good.”

 

“We don’t accept just anybody,” Bruce replies. “He made a place for himself here, and he’s part of us now.” He pauses. “So are you. You’re welcome here or at the Tower at any time.”

 

Bobby nods. “Thank you.”

 

He’s a little choked up, and he’s glad when Bruce ignores that.

 

“How long are you sticking around?” Bruce asks.

 

“I thought I’d try to convince Dean to see his old group home, since it’s only an hour away,” Bobby says. “He hasn’t seen Sonny for a long time, but I think it might do him some good.”

 

“You know him?” Bruce asks.

 

“Just to talk with on the phone,” Bobby replies. “I always meant to get up here to see him, since Sonny was a big part of Dean’s life.”

 

“And it’s important for him to know how many people support him,” Bruce says knowingly.

 

“I’m hoping so,” Bobby replies. “I know Sam’s reaction threw him for a loop.”

 

Bruce laughs. “That’s putting it mildly.”

 

“I think Natasha will put a stop to that.”

 

Bruce snorts. “I can almost feel sorry for him.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Bobby says.

 

“Should we leave them to it?” Bruce asks.

 

Bobby looks back out and sees that there are holographic monsters attacking them, and he decides he doesn’t need to watch anymore. “Yeah. Is there a kitchen in this place?”

 

“Of course,” Bruce replies.

 

The kitchen is huge, well appointed and well stocked. “You got any plans?” Bobby asks.

 

“A few,” Bruce says. “But it’s always important to cook in bulk with Avengers. Dean says your chili is great. I figured we could do that and corn bread.”

 

Bobby feels a little intimidated, feeding his chili to the Avengers. “Yeah, okay. I can’t promise anything.”

 

“Hungry Avengers will eat anything,” Bruce says. “But I have faith.”

 

Bobby doesn’t have a recipe so much as he just uses whatever’s on hand so he starts digging.

 

Bruce, it turns out, is a sarcastic asshole. He has a dry sense of humor, and he tells stories about Dean with impunity.

 

“We knew he was dating Natasha from the get-go, and don’t let him tell you otherwise,” Bruce says. “They snuck out the first night, but we all noticed.”

 

Bobby grins. “I plan on giving him a hard time about that, just so you know.”

 

“Why do you think I told you?” Bruce asks. “I’m pretty sure Natasha won’t kill you.”

 

Bobby laughs. “I see how this goes.”

 

“You’ll understand when you see them together,” Bruce says. “Dean is adorably obvious.”

 

The chili is simmering when Dean and Rogers appear, still damp from the shower, and Dean grins. “Chili! That smells great. Bobby, is it your recipe?”

 

“Not so much a recipe as throwing things together, but sure,” Bobby replies. “Bruce did the cornbread, so I can’t take credit for the whole thing.”

 

“Wait until you try his chili, Steve,” Dean says. “Bobby’s chili is the best.”

 

“I hope I can live up to the hype,” Bobby mutters, but he’s pleased, and he’s impressed by how relaxed Dean is.

 

And then Natasha walks in, and Dean lights up, and Bobby has to agree with Bruce: Dean is adorably obvious.

 

“Hey,” Dean says.

 

Natasha kisses him briefly. “Hey yourself.”

 

“Did you meet Bobby?” Dean asks.

 

“I introduced myself,” Natasha replies.

 

Dean laughs. “I see he survived.”

 

Natasha shrugs. “Him I like.”

 

Dean blushes slightly. “Good.”

 

Bobby is pleased when everyone goes back for seconds on the chili, and he gets a lot of compliments.

 

“We’ve got more training tomorrow,” Dean says. “But I should have some time in the afternoon. Was there something you wanted to do, Bobby?”

 

“Hurleyville isn’t too far from here, right?” Bobby asks, although he knows the answer to that question already. “I wouldn’t mind meeting Sonny in person.”

 

Dean frowns. “You know Sonny?”

 

“We talked on a phone a few times,” Bobby replies.

 

“I didn’t know that,” Dean replies.

 

Bobby shrugs. “I kept tabs on you.”

 

Dean shifts uncomfortably, but says, “Yeah, I guess that would be okay.”

 

Bobby wouldn’t push the issue, but he thinks it might do Dean some good to see Sonny again. “Good. I’ll call him tonight and let him know to expect us.”

 

“I haven’t seen Sonny in ages,” Dean admits. “Not since I joined SHIELD.”

 

“Is that your foster dad?” Steve asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “He ran the group home. There were usually half a dozen kids there, at least.”

 

“Does he still have kids staying there?” Tony asks.

 

“As far as I know,” Dean replies.

 

“I’ll get some stuff together for you to take,” Tony replies. “There’s a standard package we take on hospital visits.”

 

“That would be great,” Dean says.

 

“Hell, maybe we’ll take a trip up there some time if you think they’d enjoy that,” Tony offers.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure they would,” Dean says. “Thanks, Tony.”

 

Bobby is glad that this time, Dean has managed to build a family.

 

**Then**

 

Bobby waits for Dean to head back to the base before confronting Sam. He’s not Sam’s father, but he bears some responsibility for him, and for the situation.

 

Sam is a chip off the old block, avoiding anything he doesn’t want to deal with, and Bobby doesn’t know how to reach him.

 

He starts dinner with the assumption that Sam will join him eventually, and Sam slinks in just as Bobby finishes up the pork chops. “Where were you?” Bobby asks.

 

“None of your business,” Sam mutters, slumping into a seat at the table.

 

Bobby bites back the immediate response he wants to make. “You could have made more of an effort with your brother. He made a commitment, and he has to keep it.”

 

“Then he shouldn’t have made the commitment,” Sam snarls. “He could have stayed with you if he didn’t know where we were. He _chose_ to leave us.”

 

“We all make choices, Sam,” Bobby says. “Dean made the best of the situation.”

 

“He left me!” Sam shouts, standing up and knocking his chair over. “He abandoned us! And all so he could play soldier or whatever shit he told you. He’s not my brother anymore.”

 

“One day, you’re going to regret this,” Bobby tells him, knowing his words are likely to fall on deaf ears. “One day, you might learn the reasons Dean made the choices he did, and you’ll regret the time you wasted.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes in the way only a teenager can and stomps out. Bobby pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. He tries to remember that Sam is just a kid—a mixed-up, pissed off kid who feels abandoned by both his dad and his brother.

 

One of these days, Bobby is going to insist on the truth, whether John Winchester likes it or not, and he hopes the truth will repair the damage that lies between them.

 

**Now**

 

The road is wide and mostly empty on the way to Hurleyville. Bobby understands that Dean got up early to get his training out of the way, and it’s now early afternoon, the spring sunlight bright and warm.

 

Dean is driving this time, explaining that he was working on his control all morning, and he’s tired enough to trust himself behind the wheel.

 

Privately, Bobby thinks Dean is itching to drive and looking for an excuse, but he’s not going to argue. Instead, he takes it as a good sign.

 

The drive is scenic, and Bobby leans against the passenger side door. “How are you doing?”

 

“Me?” Dean says. “I’m good. I mean, Natasha’s back, and I feel like I’m getting a handle on things.”

 

“That’s real good, Dean,” Bobby replies.

 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to be around Sam much, though,” Dean continues. “I mean, I got another message from him.”

 

“Your brother is an idjit,” Bobby says, “and I don’t say that lightly.”

 

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I know. He’s never been interested in what my life is like. He probably never will be.”

 

Bobby doesn’t try to dispute that. “Have you kept in touch with Sonny?”

 

“A postcard here and there, an occasional phone call,” Dean replies. “I haven’t been back since my last leave before I got out, though.”

 

“I’m glad you had somewhere to go,” Bobby says.

 

“I always did.”

 

Dean pulls up in front of an old house, and Bobby sees a place that looks like a boy’s sanctuary. There’s an old barn, and surrounding woods, and it seems idyllic.

 

Dean climbs out from behind the wheel just as a middle-aged man comes out to the front porch. He’s a little over average height and solidly built with a handlebar mustache and long hair.

 

“D-Dog,” Sonny strides off the porch and pulls Dean into a hard, backslapping hug. “Let me look at you! You look good, man.”

 

“You, too,” Dean replies. “I hope you don’t mind us dropping in like this.”

 

“You kidding?” Sonny asks. “Like I told Bobby, it’s good to see you. He said you were in the area.”

 

“Yeah, new training center,” Dean says. “We’re breaking it in.”

 

Sonny holds out a hand to Bobby. “Bobby, good to put a face to a name and a voice.”

 

“Likewise,” Bobby replies. “How are things, Sonny?”

 

“Good, good,” Sonny replies. “Come on inside. I don’t keep any alcohol on the premises for obvious reasons, but can I get you something to drink? Water?”

 

“Yeah, water would be great,” Dean replies.

 

Bobby follows Dean’s lead, and he hears Sonny say, “I hear you’re with the Avengers now.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean replies. “For a couple of years now.”

 

“I saw you on the news,” Sonny replies. “So did the boys. They were pretty excited to learn that you’d passed through here.”

 

“Really?” Dean asks. “You told them about me?”

 

“Of course I did,” Sonny replies. “You’re one of my favorite success stories. The boys should be home in a bit if you can stick around.”

 

Dean hesitates. “If you want me to, sure. I brought some Avengers swag. I don’t know if they’d be interested.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Sonny asks. “They’d be over the moon. I have a couple of younger kids right now who would especially love that sort of thing.”

 

“I’ll grab it real quick,” Dean says. “Be right back.”

 

“How is he doing really?” Sonny asks once the front door has closed behind Dean.

 

Bobby thinks about that question. “He’s all right. He’s got good people around him, and that makes all the difference.”

 

“I always hoped that Dean would find his people,” Sonny says. “I can’t say I was expecting it to be superheroes, but I’m also not terribly surprised by it.”

 

“You know, I’ve thought much the same thing,” Bobby admits.

 

“Has Dean told you about the time he got pranked by the wrestling team after being chosen prom king?” Sonny asks.

 

“No, that story I haven’t heard,” Bobby replies.

 

“So, Dean and his girlfriend got elected prom king and queen even though Dean actively discouraged people from voting for him,” Sonny begins.

 

“Aw, come on, Sonny!” Dean protests as he re-enters the house. “Are you really telling this story?”

 

“It’s a good story,” Sonny replies. “I particularly like the part where they kept taping paper crowns to your locker for the last few weeks of the school year.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes. “They were just jealous of my stunning good looks and hot girlfriend.”

 

“Probably,” Sonny admits. “But it was still funny.”

 

Dean puts the tub of goodies on the table. “Can we tell another story? One that paints me as the future badass I became?” He holds up a hand. “Actually, continue, because if the Avengers ever show up, I’d prefer you have this story out of your system.”

 

Sonny grins. “Then I’d probably better keep it to myself.”

 

“You might as well tell me,” Bobby says. “To spare Dean the embarrassment.”

 

The story is mild really. The teasing had been in fun and not unkindly meant, mostly consisting of paper crowns taped to Dean’s locker, and taped to his back as he walked through the halls. That story leads to another, about Dean helping his wrestling team get to the state championships.

 

Sonny is talking about some of the other residents when the front door bursts open and five boys tumble through. They stop talking when they see Dean and Bobby, but then one of the boys—who looks to be about twelve—says, “Are you Demo?”

 

“Yeah, I am, but you can call me Dean,” he says. “How’s it going, guys?”

 

Dean’s public persona gets turned on, and he’s asking each of them about their lives, about what they want to be when they grow up. He tells a story about the Avengers. In a few minutes, he’s on a first name basis with each of them, and they’re all clamoring for his attention.

 

“So, look, Tony sent some gifts, and he said he might visit, but that’s probably up to Sonny, and it’s probably based on good behavior,” Dean announces. “Who’s interested?”

 

“Tony Stark? Iron Man?” the first boy, Chip, demands. “Are you guys friends?”

 

“Sure, all the Avengers are friends,” Dean replies. “Tony and I both like cars. Do you guys want to see what he sent?”

 

“Yeah!” The chorus is immediate and enthusiastic, and Dean opens the large box to reveal a ton of merchandise. There are t-shirts, hats, plush toys and action figures.

 

The kids push in close, and Sonny says, “Hey, ease off! Dean’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart.”

 

They immediately back off with subdued “sorrys.”

 

“It’s cool, guys,” Dean says easily. “This is exciting stuff. Just maybe keep it to a dull roar, huh? Now, who wears what size?”

 

“Should we get bigger sizes?” Chip asks anxiously.

 

Dean smiles. “Tell you what. I’ll leave my phone number with Sonny, and when you guys grow out of this stuff, he’ll let me know, and I’ll send more. As long as you stay in school and get decent grades, okay? Is that a deal?”

 

“Deal!” several say enthusiastic, and Dean gets wary nods from the older ones.

 

Bobby suspects that they don’t trust that Dean will keep his promises, but then Dean says, “You guys know I spent some time here when I was a teenager?”

 

“Sonny said,” one of the older boys says. Bobby thinks his name is David. “We didn’t believe him. How did you get to be an Avenger?”

 

“Well, that’s kind of a long story,” Dean says. “Sonny, you mind if we spring for pizza? We’d hate to put you out.”

 

Sonny smiles. “No, I think that would be just fine. There are a couple of others coming.”

 

“Then we’ll wait for them to get here,” Dean says. “I’ll tell you guys the story over pizza. What do you guys do for fun around here? Anybody else on the wrestling team?”

 

It’s a different side of Dean than Bobby has seen to date—lighter, more of a jokester, but warm. He tells the boys about joining the military, and that it was hard, but good. He doesn’t sugarcoat things, and he’s honest, but he still says, “That was the best decision I ever made. It’s not right for everybody, and you should think about it really hard before you sign up, if you do, but it was right for me.”

 

By the end of the night, he’s exchanged personal information with a couple of the older ones who are aging out of foster care and seem to need the extra guidance.

 

“He was always like that,” Sonny murmurs. “From the very first. It took him a day or two to settle in, but he looked after the younger kids, helped them with their homework, made sure no one messed with them at school. I always knew he’d do well, but he ended up blowing my expectations out of the water.”

 

“He did the same with me,” Bobby admits. “Thanks. For looking after him.”

 

“That was entirely my pleasure,” Sonny replies.

 

**Then**

 

There’s a long stretch between visits from Dean after John’s death, which Bobby understands. He doesn’t hold Dean’s absence against him, but he knows Sam does, and Dean knows that, too.

 

Dean has the guys in his unit, and when Bobby asks him to visit, all Dean will say is, “You’ve got Sam, and he needs you, Bobby. I won’t intrude.”

 

Bobby knows he’s listed as Dean’s next of kin partly because Dean tells him after John’s death, and partly because he gets a call four years after John’s death. “We regret to inform you that Master Sergeant Dean Winchester was injured in the line of duty. His injuries are serious, but he is expected to survive.”

 

That’s all the information the chaplain will give him. He can’t even get Dean’s location out of the man, where he was injured, or the extent of his injuries. When he gets the call from Dean, all Dean will say is that he’d been injured, expects to stay in the hospital for at least a couple of weeks, and that he’s thinking about cashing out.

 

“How many holes you got in you?” Bobby asks.

 

“More than one,” Dean admits.

 

Bobby wants to ask more questions. He can tell that something bad happened, but he doesn’t have the words. “You want to recuperate here?”

 

“No, thank you, Bobby,” Dean says. “Sam’s still coming around, right?”

 

“Maybe if he saw you injured, he’d be inclined to bury the hatchet,” Bobby says.

 

Dean snorts. “Yeah, right. That kid is going to hold it against me until the end of time. It’s fine. I’ll be in the hospital for a while, and then I’ve got to process out. I have another job offer, and I’m thinking of taking it, and if I do, I’ll probably be tied up for a while. Don’t worry about me.”

 

Bobby has done nothing but worry since 9/11 and the news that Dean would be deploying to Afghanistan. He doesn’t say that, though. “Keep in touch,” he orders. “Let me know if I can do anything.”

 

Dean will sometimes send him postcards or small mementos. From those items, Bobby can tell that he’s traveling all over the world, but he rarely calls. When he does, he’s vague about what he’s doing, and what his new job entails.

 

Bobby assumes he’s working for the CIA or some other alphabet agency.

 

And then he turns on the news one night and hears the anchor say, “Someone attempted to kill Tony Stark today. An unnamed federal agent was injured protecting him and his colleague.”

 

When the footage plays, Bobby is stunned to see Dean throwing himself in front of a rumpled guy in a suit. He goes down and stays down, and the camera gets thrown off when the Hulk appears.

 

They don’t have much information beyond that, and Bobby stays awake all night, waiting for the phone call. When Sam stops in the next day, Bobby is relieved when Sam asks if he knows how to contact Dean, thinking maybe Sam has finally pulled his head out of his ass.

 

Then again, when Sam makes a crack about Dean protecting Stark, and when he ends his side of the call abruptly Bobby figures he should probably share a few home truths before Dean’s arrival.

 

He hangs up with Dean and says, “You’ve never cared enough to ask Dean what his work entails before. Maybe you should lay off him considering he got shot.”

 

Sam shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah. Whatever. I get it, Bobby.”

 

“That’s about _enough_ ,” Bobby snarls, getting up in Sam’s face. “You never respected Dean’s decision to enlist, but you also never understood it. Why he wound up in that group home is his story to tell, but your dad went off the grid. He did that to protect _you_ , and he _left_ Dean there, without any way to contact him. Dean called me, asked if I knew where you all were, and when I admitted I didn’t, he said he was going to enlist. And _then_ , when he came back, you acted like he was dirt on your shoe, Sam. Your own brother.”

 

Sam has backed up, and he’s against the wall now. “He left.”

 

“You think about what you know about your brother, what he was like,” Bobby challenges him. “You tell me he left you. You’ve had your head up your ass long enough. Pull it out before Dean gets killed and you’re just left with another corpse to bury.”

 

Sam won’t meet his eyes as he says, “Yeah, okay. I understand. I’ll talk to him while he’s here.”

 

Bobby figures that’s good enough for now, and it’s a start. Bobby thinks it might even be enough, until Sam demonstrates just how much of John Winchester’s son he is.

 

**Now**

 

The problem that Bobby has, now that he’s in New York, is that he’s not sure when he should leave. He doesn’t want to cut his visit short, and he’s having a good time. He likes the Avengers, and he likes seeing parts of Dean’s life that have been closed to him in the past. He also doesn’t want Dean to feel as though he _wants_ to leave, like he’s being abandoned again.

 

Dean solves that problem for him a couple of days after the visit to Sonny’s, though. Bobby has watched him train and seen his gifts at work. He’s helped cook, and talked with Steve—he’s on a first name basis with Captain America now, which is weirder than his life usually is—about the hazards of war and the nature of evil.

 

Clint has shown off for him, and Bobby tells Natasha a few embarrassing stories about Dean’s childhood. He partakes of Tony’s very good alcohol and talks engines. He cooks with Bruce, and they talk research and old books and magic versus technology.

 

(Bruce advises him not to bring it up with Tony, because he’ll get a rant that’s amusing but maybe more than what Bobby wants to deal with.)

 

Bobby doesn’t exactly _want_ to go, but this isn’t his life, like hunting isn’t Dean’s life, and he’s not sure how to gracefully take his leave.

 

But then Dean says, “Not that this hasn’t been great, Bobby, because it has, but I have to head back to the city and get some work done, and I’m sure you’ve got things to do, too.”

 

“I don’t want you to think I’m running out on you,” Bobby says. They’re lingering over breakfast, and Bobby isn’t sure what the plan is for the day, although he knows he’s going a little stir crazy in the compound.

 

Dean laughs. “Are you kidding me? This visit has been great, and I’m really glad you came, but I know you. You have hunting to get back to, and I’m not much good when it comes to that.”

 

“I don’t know,” Bobby replies. “When it comes to vampires and wendigos, you could just blow them up where they stand.”

 

Dean frowns. “Wait, vampires are real?”

 

Bobby blinks, realizing that there are probably a lot of things that Dean doesn’t know about, a lot of monsters he’s not familiar with. Dean doesn’t belong in their world anymore.

 

Dean has his own world.

 

“Yeah,” Bobby replies. “They’re real, and you could blow them up, but that’s not what you do anymore.”

 

“I’m never going to be a hunter, Bobby,” Dean says quietly. “I thought about it. I thought about it after SHIELD fell, about hanging it up and going on the road with Sam, but that’s not who I am these days.”

 

“That’s okay,” Bobby insists. “What you’re doing is important. What you can do is important. You can be good at your job and not be a hunter, Dean, and you’d be wasted out there.”

 

He also suspects that Dean would have a hard time breaking the law in the ways that hunters have to do.

 

A lot of hunters look down on those who don’t know what goes bump in the night, but that emotion is usually fueled by a certain amount of jealousy and self-righteousness. Dean is a rare case, though—a hunter who got out of the business, who knows what lives in the darkness and chose another line of work.

 

 _But what a line of work_ , Bobby thinks, and figures that most hunters will be jealous, and maybe a little proud that one of their own is an Avenger.

 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean says. “If it’s okay with you, I thought we’d head back to the city today, and maybe we could play tourist a bit.”

 

“Sure,” Bobby replies. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the sights.”

 

They’re on the road shortly after that, and back in the city early that afternoon. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for sightseeing, but they take the ferry to Staten Island and see the Statue of Liberty. They end up eating hotdogs in Central Park, and then head back towards the Tower.

 

They talk about hunts and Dean’s military service, and a few of his missions that aren’t too classified to talk about. After a few days in Dean’s company, Bobby can tell that he’s much more relaxed, and it feels good.

 

Bobby feels as though he’s laid a few of his own ghosts to rest with this trip, shed some of his oldest regrets.

 

And then Bobby gets the best gift of all.

 

As they approach the Tower on foot, Bobby sees a knot of young teenagers clustered near the entrance. They’re all wearing costumes: he sees a kid in Medieval dress with a hammer, clearly meant to be Thor, another wearing a fairly impressive replica of Captain America’s red, white, and blue uniform and shield, another with a short red bob and black bodysuit.

 

The final kid is dressed in a replica of an Avengers uniform and has short blond hair. Bobby isn’t sure about the gender, and at first he thinks the kid is dressed up like Hawkeye, but they’re not even carrying a toy bow.

 

They are, however, carrying what looks like a bunch of paper towel tubes taped together to look like a bunch of dynamite. It’s fake enough not to get them into trouble, but it becomes clear who the kid is dressed up as.

 

“Oh, boy,” Dean mutters, spotting them. “Let’s try to sneak past.”

 

But it’s already too late. The faux Black Widow stage whispers, “That’s Demo! Mickey, you look just like him!”

 

Just like that, they’re all staring at Dean, clearly torn between approaching him and pretending they didn’t see him.

 

“Come on, boy, your fans await,” Bobby says. “They went to all that trouble to dress up, the least you can do is say hi.”

 

“Oh, come on, Bobby,” Dean protests, but he allows Bobby to drag him over.

 

Just like with the kids at Sonny’s, Dean puts on his public persona, all smiles and charm. He shakes each of their hands, compliments their costumes, tells Mickey they’re the spitting image of him in his Avenger uniform.

 

Faux-Cap says, “He has a picture of you on his wall!”

 

Mickey flushes a deep red. “Darien! Rude!”

 

“Well, you’d have to in order to get the costume right,” Dean says, although the tips of his ears are pink. “So, job well done. Attention to detail is very important in this line of work. Where do you guys go to school?”

 

Dean signs a few autographs, allows them to snap a few photos, and gets Bobby to take a group shot. And then he makes the day of a few of them by accepting the hugs they offer.

 

“So, hey, while you guys look really great, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble, okay?” Dean says. “Security can get kind of intense at the Tower. If you guys want a tour sometime, you give me a call, and I’ll make it happen.”

 

He hands a business card to Mickey, who nearly swoons. “Thank you.”

 

“You look great, man,” Dean says quietly, sincerely. “You all do. Thanks for supporting the Avengers.”

 

When they get into the Tower, Dean is flushed slightly, and Bobby smiles. “Looks like you’ve got some fans.”

 

Dean shrugs. “Kids do that. They get dressed up like their favorite characters. It just so happens that the people they like are real.”

 

“It doesn’t bother you?”

 

“Some starry-eyed kid having a picture of me on their bedroom wall?” Dean asks. He chuckles. “Not as much as it probably should. A friend once told me that people need to believe in heroes, and somehow I got this gig. Times like this, it reminds me that people are looking at me.”

 

Dean is quiet for a moment. “I’ll disappoint them, that’s a given, but I’m going to try not to. I want to be the kind of guy that kids can look up to.”

 

“And if the poster on the wall isn’t aspirational as much as it’s something else?” Bobby asks, unable to resist the opportunity to poke fun.

 

Dean grins. “Hey, I’m the pretty one on the team.”

 

And there’s more than a trace of the sweet, cocky boy Bobby used to know.

 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Dean says. “The team wanted a chance to see you off. I told Tony nothing big, but it’s Tony, so no guarantees.”

 

But when they get up to the Tower, it’s just the team, with the addition of Thor, the only member of the team Bobby hasn’t met. In some ways, he’s as intimidating as Steve, but Bobby hadn’t grown up idolizing Thor.

 

“Well met, friend Dean,” Thor says. “I hope you are adjusting.”

 

“I am,” Dean says, clasping Thor’s forearm. “You haven’t met my uncle yet. This is Bobby Singer.”

 

Thor might not be the smartest Avenger, but he’s been around the block a time or two, and his gaze sharpens. “Stark said he found him very good company. Welcome.”

 

“We’ve been having a good time,” Dean says mildly. “Although, if you want to get a real kick, there are a group of kids downstairs dressed up to look like Avengers. Take a few pictures with them, and you’ll have friends for life.”

 

Thor laughs. “Is this like a play?”

 

“I’ll explain cosplay later,” Dean promises. “But they’re nice kids, and their costumes are good. There’s one that looks a bit like you.”

 

“Very interesting,” Thor says. “I should like to see that.”

 

Thor heads out onto the roof, swinging his hammer around his head, and Bobby watches in fascination as he shoots up into the sky.

 

“That will either scare them shitless or thrill them beyond measure,” Clint remarks, approaching them. “And I don’t know whether to be jealous that you’ve got a lookalike when I don’t, or relieved. Me, they didn’t recognize when I snuck by.”

 

Dean smirks. “It goes to show that I’m the pretty one.”

 

“Don’t let Natasha hear you say that.”

 

“Mmm…but Natasha is far more than a pretty face,” Dean replies.

 

“It’s nice to be appreciated for my brain,” Natasha says, sneaking up on them so quietly that Bobby doesn’t hear her approach. “Also, Clint, of the two of you, Dean is prettier.”

 

“You’re just biased,” Clint replies, but he’s clearly amused.

 

Natasha smirks. “Why do you think I slept with him in the first place? I deserve the very best.”

 

Clint raises his hands. “I concede that I am outmatched. Come on, Bobby, you can tell me an embarrassing story about Dean so I can retaliate.”

 

Bobby shakes his head. “Sorry, but I need a little bit more to offer an embarrassing story. Bruce was going to share his curry recipe with me, though.”

 

He finds Bruce and Tony deep in science talk, but they turn it off when Bobby approaches, and Bruce says, “We’ll be sorry to see you go, Bobby. It’s been a pleasure to have you around.”

 

Bobby is touched by the sincerity, and he clears his throat. “I’m just glad to know there are people watching Dean’s back. It’s a real weight off my mind.”

 

“We’ll take care of him,” Tony says. “I owe him. There aren’t a lot of people with his gifts.”

 

“Blowing things up?” Bobby asks.

 

Tony shakes his head. “No, his heart.”

 

All of the Avengers make a point to talk to Bobby, to tell him that he’s welcome to come back at any time, and they either say outright or hint that they’ll have Dean’s back.

 

When Thor returns to the party, he pronounces himself delighted with the costumes. “This is marvelous! They did not have an exact replica of Mjolnir, of course, but it was quite impressive. What is this cosplay? The children were trying to explain it, but I’m not sure I understood.”

 

“This I have to see,” Bruce mutters, grabbing his own drink and joining them.

 

The other Avengers drift over, too, and Tony taps Bobby on the shoulder. “They’ll be at this a while. I have something I want to show you.”

 

Bobby frowns, but follows Tony to the elevator. “I know Dean had a car he loved, a ’67 Impala. Is that right?”

 

“Sam has it now,” Bobby admits.

 

“I can’t give him that car, unless you think Dean’s brother will take a lot of money for it, but I can give him something similar,” Tony replies. “Or something that he can maybe make other memories inside. I don’t know.”

 

“Don’t get him a truck,” Bobby says, thinking of their conversation on the way upstate.

 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, that wasn’t on the menu. I’m thorough in my research. I tell you this because Bruce tells me I’m presumptuous, both with those I like and those I don’t. The difference is that I try to give the people I actually like the things they want. Apologies in advance if I fucked it up.”

 

Bobby has no idea what he’s talking about, and then he sees his Chevelle, which he’d assumed was still parked in the garage near Dean’s place. He hasn’t even thought about it, but maybe he should have.

 

Still, he has to give the man some credit. The Chevelle has a new paint job, but it’s a dark blue that’s not too obtrusive. The interior has been detailed and there’s new upholstery to cover the threadbare seats.

 

“I had it towed here. Start it up,” Tony says. “I had a few things done to the engine. Nothing too sacrilegious, but you’ll get better gas mileage than you did.”

 

The engine purrs like one from a much more expensive car than this one is, and while Bobby might have gotten his back up, he recognizes what this gift means.

 

Tony is the kind of guy to throw money at a problem he can’t solve through other means, or to show how he feels.

 

“Well, I won’t be able to leave the keys in the car anymore,” Bobby comments. “But whoever worked on it did a great job.”

 

His voice is gruff, mostly because of the emotion he won’t show Dean. He’s going to be sorry to leave, and he likes these people more than he thought he would.

 

“You like it, then?” Tony asks.

 

Bobby turns to look at him. “I won’t tell you that it’s too much. I will ask you to look after my boy.”

 

Tony nods. “Speaking as someone who knows shitty dads, and shitty honorary uncles, you’re not. Come back whenever you want.”

 

“I appreciate the invitation,” Bobby says.

 

“Come on, we should get back to the party,” Tony says.

 

When they get back, Dean and Thor are knocking back drinks with the others as Dean explains nerd culture and cosplay. Bobby is amused that Dean even knows what that is, and it’s another side to him that Bobby doesn’t expect.

 

“Did you ever dress up as one of these characters?” Thor asks.

 

Dean shakes his head. “I never had the chance, or the skills, but these folks make their own costumes. The talent is impressive. People don’t give them enough credit, really.”

 

Bobby thinks about leaving just then, slipping out, but realizes that would be the wrong call.

 

“I’m going to bed,” Bobby murmurs in Dean’s ear. “I’ll see you in the morning before I leave.”

 

“You promise?” Dean asks, craning his neck to look at Bobby.

 

“You bring the coffee, and I’ll be there,” Bobby replies. “Enjoy yourself.”

 

There’s a room set aside for him in the Tower that Bruce made sure he knew about before the drinking commenced. Bobby glances back over his shoulder to watch Dean, in the middle of his element, in the middle of his friends.

 

He smiles, and he knows that Dean is going to be just fine.


End file.
